Insanity
by She Who Shall Go Nameless
Summary: It was him. He was her problem, and somehow her solution as well. RoryJess


**Not sure how I like this one. It's my first Gilmore Girls fic, so please any concrit is welcome. This is RoryJess, right before Rory leaves for Washington DC with Paris. Enjoy!**

It was him. He was her problem, and somehow her solution as well.

There was no logic to it. Nothing that Chilton, Harvard, Emily or Lorelai would ever teach her could explain it. It was beyond even Paris' intelligence.

At first, she didn't even notice it. It was just little things; little jokes and book references that she knew Dean would not understand. But _he _did. And almost unbeknownst to her, things started heating up.

Why was it that she felt a twinge of excitement when he bought her basket? Did she enjoy that thoroughly inedible meal just a little too much? Was there anything she could have done? And what about the bracelet? How could it have taken her _two weeks_ to realize that it was missing? Was she really that stupid?

She blamed Dean for being protective, while even so a tiny voice at the back of her mind reminded her that he had all the right to be. Suddenly, she was hiding things. She had a secret life, the life of a criminal. Presenting Rory Gilmore, upstanding citizen by day, backstabbing evil-doer at night. What was _wrong_ with her?

When Luke's uncle died, she pitched in to help. Of course she did. And she got mad that _he_ wasn't doing more around the diner. But was it really only that? Did she really care so much for Luke that it should bother her so deeply? Or did she want him to be with her more? She hid the answer away deep inside, locking it up so that no one would see the truth. She was like a well, with the truth deep at the bottom, and some part of her knew that all one had to do was drop in a bucket to bring those dangerous thoughts bubbling to the surface.

When Luke asked her to tutor him, what was she to say? Luke was her friend, almost a second father, and it seemed only natural to help him. She knew her mom did not like the idea, but really, what could it hurt? It was just a study date. If her mom would entrust her to the merciless wrath of Paris Gellar, surely she could hold her peace about Luke's nephew.

Of course, there was not much studying, and if she was honest she did not try very hard. There was something about him that intoxicated her, until she was more drunk than Lorelai had ever been. She couldn't think straight, she forgot all the reasons that they couldn't be friends, comrades, _lovers_. When she was with him, the rest of the world, Dean, even her mother, all seemed so insignificant. And even when the spell was long broken, she was able to believe that there was nothing wrong. Everything was fine. But it wasn't.

Somehow, she agreed to go get ice cream with him. Somehow, she gave him her keys. She told him to keep driving, because some part of her thought that if they just kept driving, they would leave the real world all together, and that it would be him and her, her and him, together in the realm of books and wit and danger…

She wasn't sure how it happened, all she saw was the outline of something furry in the road. She was thrown forward and in an instant was against the dashboard as her car, her beautiful car, was brought to a stop. She knew she should have been more upset, about her arm; about the car. But all she could think was that it wasn't his fault. She wanted to tell Lorelai that it was not his fault. She wanted to say how his first and only concern was for her. He wanted, maybe even _needed_ to know that she was okay. She wanted to tell Luke, and Miss Patty, and Babet, and Kirk, and Taylor, and Sukie, and most of all, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know that it was okay. She wanted him to not hate himself on her account.

But he was gone. He didn't even say goodbye, and almost as suddenly as he had come, he had gone. She had always denied that there was anything between them; she denied it to herself, to Dean, and to the entire town. But the truth was, she missed him. For all of his faults, she missed him.

He was like a drug, dangerous to be around but even more dangerous when taken away. She was reckless when he was there, and even more so when he wasn't. She was in a downward spiral as she slowly went crazy, still trying to convince the world that he meant nothing at all to her beyond friendship.

So how was it that she found herself on a smelly public bus? Why was she making her way to New York? There was no logic. There was no reasoning with an intoxicated mind. And yet, when she saw him, everything was immediately right. She was happy. Only when he left again did the seeds of panic set in. And only when she saw her mother's heartbroken face that she realized how reckless she was being. But he was gone now, and it would all be okay. She could put it behind her and move on with her life, her real life. Her life with Dean, and Chilton, and happiness.

It worked, for a while. She could have been fine. She would have been.

He came back. She wasn't expecting it, but when she saw him she knew that she'd craved it. There was no other reason that she would be running towards him, demanding and explanation. There was no other reason that his lips on hers should have felt so good, so right. That his warm hand on her cheek, slimmer and smoother that Deans, was so thrilling. And then she remembered. Dean.

There was no way to deny it anymore. The was being an awful girlfriend. Dean deserved better, and a part of her didn't want to give it. She ran away, and really, she was still running. That's why she was on this plane at all. She was running away from an enigma that she could not comprehend, and which she did not want to. Because she knew that it all came back to him. Her obsession, her guilty pleasure.

He was her problem, and yet he was her solution as well.

She hated him and loved him.

She was an addict, and he was her poison. He was slowly driving her to insanity.

She had to get away, and that was what she was doing. Her last thought before the roaring of the engines and of Paris' ranting was of his hurt look when she pulled away.

"It's absolute insanity," Paris paused to draw breath. Rory closed her eyes against the glare of the sun.

"Insanity," she murmured. "Yeah, it is."

Paris would never know what she meant, and if she was honest, neither did she. All she knew was that she was going … going … gone.


End file.
